A Satisfactory Compromise
by peacefulsands
Summary: All Eliot wants is some peace, but it's not so easy to come by in Parker's company.


**Title** : A Satisfactory Compromise

**Author** : peaceful_sands

**Fandom** : Leverage

**Characters** : Parker and Eliot

**Rating** : PG-13

**Word Count** : approx. 1000 words

**Prompt** : _Leverage, Parker & Eliot, Eliot knows the benefit of quiet meditation. Parker doesn't._

**Disclaimer : **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><strong><span>A Satisfactory Compromise<span>**

Eliot is sitting in the middle of the floor, the space around him wide and uncluttered, the blinds at the window tilted to dim but not dull the light from outside. His eyes are half mast, half focussed on a spot a few feet in front of him and he is breathing in . . .

And breathing out . . .

Breathing in . . .

And breathing out . . .

And he's breathing in and no, that isn't a noise at the bedroom window because Parker knows better than to disturb him now.

He's breathing out, pushing out the frustration. If she just settles down quietly in the bedroom, he can manage.

The door opens and he doesn't move as she pads across the room, flops onto the sofa and then television flicks on behind him.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing, hoping that by some strength of will he can completely block out the sound from the TV. He breathes in . . .

And breathes out . . .

He breathes in . . .

And Parker tuts loudly and turns the volume up, before saying, "Where do these people come from? None of them can sing!"

"Sssh," he says without opening his eyes, just before he breathes in again.

"But . . . you know what would be a really good idea? We could put you into American Idol, you've got a good voice, you can sing."

"Parker," he growls, "I need quiet. I already explained it to you . . . You agreed to spend the afternoon with Hardison."

"He was playing on his computer and I got bored, so I thought I'd come and watch you."

"Then be quiet," Eliot says softly.

"What are you supposed to get out of this?" she asks, ignoring the way his shoulders drop in defeat, now she's got his attention.

"It improves my concentration and my health," he says simply.

"But you've already got good concentration – better than mine and you're pretty healthy, all that food you make – it's not like Hardison! Why do this as well?"

"It means I can be less irritated by the little things," he adds.

She laughs, "But you're always growly and always irritated by Hardison." There's a pause, he can imagine the little puckering of a frown in the center of her forehead. "And me!" she adds.

"Well, just imagine what I'll be like if I don't get to do this."

She laughs and he turns to look at her. "Show me, teach me how to do it," she says with a bright smile.

It's worth a try he figures, fetching a cushion for her and shifting his own across before indicating she should stand next to him. He starts his routine again, leading her through a set of simple preparatory Qi-gong exercises before indicating that she should sit down. "Close your eyes, don't think about anything but your breathing. If it helps, just count your breaths in and out."

"How many do I need to count?"

"It doesn't matter, just slow breathing and count it if it helps. Try not to think about anything else." He settles himself alongside and closes his eyes again, preparing himself to sink under, even though he knows this time he'll leave a tendril of consciousness with her. He knows he can't expect her to meditate for the same sort of length of time as he's used to doing, but at least this way he'll get some time and there's a little part of him that's optimistic enough to hope that Parker might benefit, might like it and want to do more of it.

They're both quiet and Eliot can hear Parker's slightly exaggerated breathing. He figures she'll calm down soon and he waits. A few minutes later, there's a giggle. He ignores it and hopes that Parker will settle again.

She giggles again just a little later and he says, "Parker, just breathe."

"But you told me not to think and things keep popping into my head."

He opens his eyes and looks at her. His eyes are soft and full of understanding, "That happens when you're new to meditating. All you have to do is just let the thought go again – don't follow it, just transfer your mind back to your breathing."

"Why does it do that? Do you do that too?"

"Sometimes, but not as much as I used to. Practise, Parker, that's what makes the difference."

She shifts on her cushion and seems to get comfortable, then closes her eyes again and starts breathing loudly. Eliot frowns for an instant before turning himself back to his own meditation.

They last a whole five minutes this time before Parker starts to shift and shuffle on her cushion, bumping into Eliot in the process. He opens his eyes and looks at her. She looks slightly guilty, but then admits, "This is hard. I don't think I'm any good at this."

"It takes practise, Parker." With a sigh, he stands up and offers her his hand up from the floor. She doesn't really need it, they both know that, but she accepts and bounces to her feet beside him. He clears the floor and offers her a drink of water before moving across to his CD player and slipping in a CD. "We'll try this instead," he says as he moves back to the center and demonstrates a set of slow, measured t'ai chi moves.

She sets down her glass and joins him, imitating his movements. They run through the exercises a few times and he's pleased with the smooth gracefulness of her movements. He starts the tape again and this time he watches her, leaning in and gently adjusting her position a few times.

It might not be his quiet meditation, but it isn't her usual frenetic energy either. It's a compromise that works for them both and it's a time they'll both enjoy and agree to come back to together.


End file.
